


Friends for Life . . . and After.

by howlingautumn (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Multi, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:28:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/howlingautumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everyone is remembered you know. Not everyone has a larger than life death. Not everyone gets to say goodbye. But, life sometimes levels the field, and sometimes, nobody dies . . . . sometimes everybody lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

i.

Thorin’s voice has the affectation of thunder rolling over the hills, Legolas thinks, as he rolls the question around in his head. The not yet King Under the Mountain holds back what sounds like a long suffering sigh and asks again, “Elf, I said, why do you join us?”

Because, Legolas thinks again, once when I was but an elfling you came to Greenwood and smiled down at me and your grandfather and your father drank wine from that forest and I knew you had within you the right to rule. Instead, though, he says, “I pay my debts, Master Dwarf.”

Oakenshield smirks, wryly, “I see. Well, welcome to the Company then.” Legolas blinks, once or twice, to let the air clear, “Thank you.”

The Burglar snuffles a laugh into her coat, “Hello again, Legolas Thranduilion.” The Elf Prince smiles at the hobbit, and how the tips of her ears barely show out from under her curls, “Miss Baggins, always a well meet.” He hides a laugh well, because of his many years of practice, but almost fails when he sees Thorin glaring at them from across the fire. The Hobbit is just warming her fingers though, almost as long as an elf’s, oblivious to the eyes concerning her countenance.

For that Legolas tilts his eyes to the night and studies the stars, he will not be the one to tell her the truth. That blue eyes and bluebells go quite well together, he thinks.

 

ii.

Thorin Oakenshield snorts into his soup in a rather unkingly manner at his heir apparent mooning over the Elf Prince. He wants to roll his eyes at Fili, or make Dwalin see what Fili is doing, or make the Burglar talk some sense into Fili, but he does none of those things. Instead, he stares at the hobbit from across the fire. And he waits for Fili to get some sense.

It is only when he sees his nephew fumbling unaware at the leather band that hides his Name that he realizes.

There is no sense in this painful electric.


	2. The Road.

iii.

Fili is not a romantic.

Kili is, his brother believes in destiny, paths crossing for a reason, and that true love can transcend even the deepest darkest barriers.

Fili takes after his uncle Frerin in the point that well placed friction does not always have to lead to a lifelong bond. He has had his tumbles with lasses . . . and the occasional lad. He has wooed many a maiden and knight into his tent only to send them out thoroughly rumpled and with a fair amount of beard burn.

There is nothing wrong with this. Fili knows. Still, he cannot misplace the guilt he feels when he peeks at the name written on his wrist in Mahal’s script. Try though he might, he still cannot.

So, on the first few days after the Elf joins them, Fili does everything to keep occupied. He braids his hair and chops wood and annoys the living daylights out of Blue. He spars with Dwalin and shines every single one of his weapons and taste tests Bombur’s new soups. Mostly though, he stares at the name on his wrist and tries to resist the urge to have the Prince of Mirkwood translate. To see if it is true, to see if it is true that paths cross for a reason and that true love can transcend time and space and and and . . . .

What a load of crock.


End file.
